The Unguarded
by veggie-4head
Summary: When The Order finds out Voldemort's new plot to draw Harry to him, everyone Harry loves and cares for is being protected. But what happens to The Unguarded?
1. Chapter 1

Heather's eyes darted to the clock mounted on the wall. _Twelve minutes,_ Heather thought to herself. She flipped the old, yellowed page of the leather bound book she was reading. After shifting her position on the wooden chair behind the counter, she glanced again at the clock. _Ten minutes until I get to go home,_ Heather sighed. Time had never moved so slowly; and this book was so boring. She placed it on a shelf under the counter, got up, and walked around, browsing for another. As she got to the corner of the store, she walked slower and slower. None of the titles caught her eye. Maybe that's why customers were scarce. She had just started this job a month ago, and wondered how the owner kept the place in business. She did not know his name, and had only spoken to him once. However, she had seen him many times, scurrying in and out of the alley area next to this one, clutching packages of god-knows-what. Heather had never questioned this, for she did not want to get him agitated, since he gave her this job, even though she was a mere thirteen. She needed to help her mother support their household; after her father had died last year money had been hard to come by. _Ding!_

Heather looked up from the shelf she was browsing, startled. The bell on the front door to the store announced the presence of Jackie. "Hello. Shifts over," Jackie said, shaking off water on her coat, from the rain.

"Finally," Heather smiled. Jackie put on white work cap, which greatly contrasted her jet black, dyed hair. Heather slipped off her work cap, that bore the logo, "Bruce's Books."

"See you tomorrow," Heather bid Jackie good bye. Jackie smiled as Heather walked out of the store, the bell clanging once more.

It was a rotten day; rain was pouring from the dark clouds. Heather cursed herself for not having brought a coat. She walked a block and a half, just as something rubbed up against her leg. A ginger colored cat, soaking wet, and looking very unhappy, was staring at Heather. She picked it up, being very fond of cats, and having on of her own. "Hello," she crooned, "Where is your owner?" The rain poured down harder, increasing the tempo of the steady beat, of which the rain hit the pavement. "Well, we can't stay out here," Heather positioned the cat in her arms as she hurried home.

Heather burst through the kitchen door, soaked to the bone. She placed down the cat, whom she had christened Ginger, and it walked over and helped itself to the food Heather had put out for her own cat, Midnight. Midnight appeared from the living room, surveying her new companion. Apparently she did not mind a bit, and stood next to Ginger, and they ate together. Heather glanced down at the wooden table, and saw a note.

_Heather - Went to store - Love, Mum  
_

Heather went to the stove and put on a cup of tea for herself and some for her mother if he wanted any when she got home. Then she trudged upstairs, after taking off her muddy shoes, and went into her bedroom. It was slightly small, cluttered, but roomy. Heather looked at herself in the mirror. Her light blonde hair had turned almost brow from the rain, and her pale green shirt, that matched her eyes, had turned and evergreen shade. She took off her clothes and threw them on the floor, as she put on cozy pajamas. She left her wet clothes on the rug, even though she knew her mother would scold her for it later. She went back downstairs to see the two cats still eating away. Heather knew she would have to find Ginger's owner, but she really wanted to keep it; he was so adorable. She took the tea of the stove, and poured some into a mug. She sipped too quickly and scorched the roof of her mouth. Not long after, her mother came through the door in a frenzy, arms filed with groceries.

"Heather," her mother said, indicating for Heather to help her. Heather sighed and got up, and put them away. Her mother stepped forward- i Meeeeow/i Her mother jumped in shock- she had stepped on Gingers tail. She turned to face Heather, as Heather smiled guiltily.

Her mother rolled her eyes, inquiring where Heather had found her. "On the street," said Heather, ignoring her mothers protests on how it would be diseased, "I'm going to put up flyers tomorrow to try and find the owner."

On her way to work the next morning, Heather knew she would not have to look much father to find the owner. On every other tree or street pole, there was a picture of Ginger. Heather walked up to the nearest one and read the sign. It gave a phone number, and told to ask for Hermione. She took it off the street pole, folded it neatly into eighths, and slipped it into her pocket.

When she reached work she hurried behind the counter, and went into the back room to use the telephone. She took out the flyer and slowly dialed the number.

"Hello?" answered a brisk voice.

"Hello, is this Hermione?" asked Heather slowly.

"Have you found Crookshanks? Is he alright?" blurted out the girl on the other line.

Heather was taken back by this outburst, and gave a chuckle. "Yes, he's fine.

Crookshanks, did you call him?"

"Yes. Oh thank you so much! I was so scared!" Hermione continued breathlessly.

Heather laughed again, nervously, "Where should I meet you to return him?"

Hermione pondered for a moment, "Do you know where Bruce's Bookstore is?"

Heather smiled at the irony of the situation, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

They agreed to meet there later today. This gave Heather enough time to run home and get Ginger, or Crookshanks, after her shift ended.

Heather returned to the store front, and opened the book she had deserted yesterday. She braced herself for another boring day at work.

Heather stood at the street corner, looking around for the girl named Hermione. This was rather pointless, because she had no idea what she looked it. Crookshanks was rubbing against her leg, purring, when a bushy haired girl shrieked. "Crookshanks!" Heather realized that it must be Hermione. A girl with shocking red hair stood next to her.

"Ginny," the red haired girl said, extending a hand.

Heather shook it, introducing herself. Hermione was still busy cooing over Crookshanks. Hermione thanked Heather again and again, until Heather had to cut her off. "Really, it was nothing. I love cats, I have a black one named Midnight."

Ginny looked at her wistfully, "I wish I had a pet."

"Oh, thank is really too bad. They are great fun. I don't have any siblings so they keep me company."

Ginny laughed, "Oh, I have plenty of siblings."

Hermione turned away, as two boys appeared. She engaged herself fin conversation with them, they must be close friends.

"Speak of the devil," said Ginny gazing at the boy on the left. Heather saw his flaming red hair, and knew it was a family trait.

"How many do you have?" Heather asked. She wondered what Ginny considered "plenty."

"Six. All brothers," said Ginny, sarcastically excited.

"I would love to have siblings-"

"But not as many as me," finished Ginny. They both laughed.

"Hey, Ginny," said her brother, "Were heading back to-"

Hermione had stepped on his foot. He cringed. A boy with glasses, rolled his eyes, and said, "You know what he means."

"I'll come in a second," said Ginny. With that, they walked away.

A very long second it was. Ginny and Heather talked for a good hour and a half, before her brother came back to get her.

"Ginny, we have to leave!" said Ron.

Ginny and Heather said good bye; Ginny promised to write. Heather started to give her address, but Ginny cut her off saying it would be much easier to just drop it off at Bruce's Books. Heather was struck by this odd way of communicating, but shrugged it off, said good bye, and started her walk home.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Heather,_

_How are you? I'm fine- I hope this letter found you well. _

It had. Heather had been going to work like usual and had found it on the ground just outside the door. As soon as she had gotten inside she had begun to read. At once Heather wondered what in the world Ginny head written it in. It was quite unlike any pen Heather had ever used. And on top of that, the method of delivering! Very strange indeed. Maybe it would be explained it the letter...?

Before Heather had even begun to continue reading a disgruntled looking man burst through the doors. He seemed to not notice Heather, sitting behind the counter. She recognized him as the owner; he was muttering to himself, staring at the floor. "Can't believe it... bloody dementors... let him escape..." Heather gave a slight cough to announce her presence.

The small man jumped; his eyes were bloodshot and he staggered when he walked "'Lo... and who are you?" He then hit himself in the center of the forehead with the palm of his hand, "Jackie! No, no... Give me a mo'..." he paused, "Heather!" She smiled, unsure of what was going on. There was silence.

"Um... any reason you came by?" asked Heather.

He gave her a toothy grin, "No reason at all, m' dear!"

"Oh."

Heather shifted in her seat as the man swayed on the spot; it was very quiet. Heather tried to think of something to say.

"It's a nice shop you have here," she gestured toward the books. He just looked at her.

"Forgive me if I'm prying... but who's escaped?"

The man's eyes grew wide, "You'd know! Siruis Black! He was on the Muggle News!" He gasped, then hiccuped, and collapsed in giggles fit for a five year old, not a grow man.

"Yes," said Heather remembering, "He was on the Channel 14 News, too."

The man nodded. Waddling over to the red armchair in the corner of the store he pulled a fat book off the shelf. Holding the book upside down he plunked himself in the chair and said, "Don't mind me!"

Heather returned to reading her letter, ignoring frequent hiccups from the corner of the store.

_School, although I have only been here for a few days, has been all right. I am almost ready to go to sleep. (My bed looks so comfy!) I hope you do not think it weird the way I had this delivered to you. My school doesn't do **llllllllll** mail the way everybody else does. We use birds. To reply to this letter you can just place your letter where I left mine._

_How have you been getting along since I last saw you? (Although that wasn't that long ago.) Has school started up yet? How is it going? Hope you are well -Ginny  
_

That was, by far, the strangest letter Heather had ever received. She read it again. They used birds? Who the hell does that? She squinted when she came to the cross out. Curios, she flipped the letter over and held it up to the light. She read, "muggle post." Muggle? It rang a bell- she turned to the red armchair. It was empty- _Clang!_ The bell rang, telling Heather the old man had left the shop. Without a second of thought Heather had hoped over the counter, planning to follow him. Heather's mother had always told her she was too curious. Was it a fault in her character? Heather hardly knew, but now wasn't the time to be thinking of that. He had run to the alley next door, but- what? She blinked. Was she hallucinating? No one else seemed to notice it. She headed for the door of the "new" building and pulled it open, again, without thinking about it. It appeared to be a small pub. A few people were scattered throughout, talking amongst themselves and having a few drinks. As she approached the center of the room she saw a broom dusting the floor. Not a person dusting the floor with a broom. A broom, moving itself, floating in midair! Heather wiped her head from side to side- blonde hair being tossed in every direction. Didn't the people realize what was happening? She was a man watching his drink stir itself, like it was completely normal. What was gong on?

_Thud!_ Heather found herself sprawled on the floor. She had tripped over a table leg, because, of course, she had not been paying attention to were she was walking. She got up- all eyes on her. Backing up she felt this wasn't a place a thirteen year old girl should be. She ran to the door, wrenched it open, and threw herself into the sunlight. _No_ , she thought as she looked around. She had went through the wrong door! It had lead to the alley in back of the pub. The door opened and out came the man who had watched his drink stir itself. He kept his eyes on the ground as he pulled a slender piece of wood out of his pocket. Heather made no noise- she held her breath. Walking up to the brick wall he began to tap some of the bricks. _What the hell is he doing?_ Heather stepped forward, just as the brick wall began to slide apart.


End file.
